


My Sins Upon Your Hands

by setosdarkness



Series: OTP Collection - IwaOi [14]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Final Haikyu Quest, M/M, king!Oikawa, knight!Iwaizumi, not-really-a-good-father-figure!Iwaizumi, not-really-a-kid!Oikawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2730275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setosdarkness/pseuds/setosdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to the heroes' efforts, the Grand King Oikawa has been banished from the realm. Iwaizumi can finally retire from his stressful job as a knight. But then again, picking up a curly-haired brat who insists on eating nothing but milk bread is probably not the best way to de-stress oneself after saving the world. </p><p>[or: Grand King Oikawa gets turned to a child after his defeat, loses his memories, then gets picked up by the very knight who was responsible for his fall.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01 - sloth

**Author's Note:**

> \- this will have 14 chapters in total – not only because it's my number for this ship (Oikawa - #1, Iwaizumi #4), but also because it's the sum of the seven deadly sins & seven sins of the memory  
> \- each chapter will have fairly short snippets of the life of Iwaizumi after the fall of Oikawa (and after he loses his reason to live) and also after meeting the de-aged Oikawa

••• **01**  
  
The war is finally over.

Everyone can finally return to their lives before everything went to hell—Kageyama and Hinata can _finally_ go home together, preferably somewhere far away where nobody would be able to hear their bickering that's very effective in lowering the IQ of everyone within a fifty-meter radius—Kenma can finally play an actual game instead of imagining their circumstances as game mechanics, which usually leads to having him to designate him as an enemy that's easily defeated--Aone can finally… he's not quite sure what the silent man does, but in case, he's free to do whatever he wanted.

For his part, Iwaizumi is finally free to go back to his life at the castle, where he had spent most of his time with practicing his swordsmanship, while he had skillfully tried to ignore the annoying shit that Oikawa did.

…if Oikawa is even around.

Sometimes, Iwaizumi thinks it's too good to be true, for good to finally win against evil, for Oikawa to have been successfully banished from the realm, for _world peace_.

Of course, everyone had made their own sacrifices, offered their own time-dreams-aspirations, did their all so their lands could be freed from an idiotic megalomaniac who happened to have a little too much power to inflate his already huge ego.

Iwaizumi's one of them, after all, the _normal folk_ who have been oppressed by the terrifying reign of the Grand King. Unlike the rest of the hero's party and the rest of the world though, Iwaizumi also _was_ part of Oikawa's court when the other still hadn't let all the dark magic go to his head. He has willingly joined Seijou before, has even spent years training for the acceptance test to Seijou's knights, has even admired the teenager who couldn't have been older than him try his hand at being a king.

Now that the war is finally over, Iwaizumi thinks that he still has so much pent-up energy that has nowhere to go to.

Most of the actual fighting was done by Hinata and Kageyama, backed up by Kenma's magic. He didn't have a lot to contribute to their victory, but he's still part of the hero's party nevertheless – so he's also received his share of praises, compliments and prizes.

Something doesn't feel right though, stirring his stomach worse than Kageyama's attempt at cooking did. It's almost as though he's still raring for a fight, as though he's discontented with the way things turned out, as though he's _unhappy_ with world peace. It's a load of bullshit – how can anyone complain about _world peace_?

So this feeling must be something else then.

Iwaizumi writes down a note on the clay-brown paper scroll by his table, his handwriting rough and shaky from lack of practice. He's been so focused with practicing his swordsmanship and showing off the fruits of his practices that he can't remember the last time he's even had to hold a quill between his fingers.

The note says – or should say – that he'll have to consult the local healer for a check-up tomorrow. World peace or not, it's also very possible that he has inhaled some toxic gas that altered his disposition, made him feel anxiety when there should be no more reason to. Or maybe Kageyama's cooking had some nasty delayed side-effects.

He scribbles down a smaller note right below the initial one – a reminder to also ask Hinata and Kenma if they've felt something strange as well during their trip back from the final battle. It would be more polite if he can also venture to ask the remaining two members of their party, but Kageyama is blissfully oblivious of the quality of his own cooking, while talking to Aone is on par with talking to a stone wall.

His handwriting remains stiff and ugly, but he figures that if he continues writing more, he's bound to improve to a more readable level.

Iwaizumi looks out the just-opened window of his abandoned-for-months cottage, spies the cloudless sky and the bright sunlight that hasn't made an appearance since the Grand King's spell of bringing down eternal darkness to the lands. He's fairly neat with his belongings, but months of disuse and abandonment has made his house appear dusty and messy. There are no alarming scents of rot and decay, though he does think that the house can use a little freshening up.

He spares a moment to think about how useless his current job is, now that there's world peace everywhere and there's no more demand for knights who only knew how to swing their swords around and cut down demons.

He wonders if he should clean up his spot at the barracks – but then again, it's not like he had brought any belongings there. Also, it's not like there's any hurry with anything right now. Maybe he can drop by after his visit to the local healer tomorrow. Maybe he can do it the week after – what else is there to do anyway, now that everything's over?

He doesn't have anything in particular that he would like to do. He can surely make use of his skills to hunt wild boars for sustenance. He pretty much already has everything he will ever need to last him a lifetime. Should he want for anything more, he can probably sell his tales of how their ragtag bunch had managed to rid the world of evil or something.

Iwaizumi feels that nauseating rumble of his stomach again.

Maybe he's always been sick and it's now just catching up to him, now that all the stress has faded away.

He's not too worried though.

He eyes the forest a short distance away from his cottage. He remembers seeing some brightly-colored herbs that smelled homey on his way back from their _trip_. He can pick them up and make a makeshift bouquet of air fresheners, liven his place up a little bit.

He savors the short walk, thinking that it's been quite some time since he's experienced this type of idling around. It's good, in a way that he's never really noticed that the pathways are uneven with marks imprinted by wagon wheels, just as he's never really noticed that the houses surrounding his have boarded-up windows and wilted plants in their lawns. He wonders if he still has neighbors then, or if they've all fled towards some place safer, or if they've actually perished because of the war.

His musing is cut short when he finally ends up in front of the brightly-colored herbs that he planned on taking back to his house, more because there's someone already there, small hands picking off the leaves from the shrubbery, movements quick with haste as though the leaves will end up leaving him if he doesn't get them all.

"…are you lost?" Iwaizumi offers after a few minutes of standing awkwardly, his presence otherwise unacknowledged by the child in front of him. He doesn't think he's ever seen this child before, but he doesn't really trust his memory recently (hence the writing down of his tasks) and he admittedly hasn't made it a priority to pay attention to the hometown that he's supposedly been serving for.

The child finally stops his near-frantic leaf-gathering and turns around, his oversized shirt almost falling off his shoulders with the quick motion. The child has brown hair and brown eyes, with skin almost deathly-pale from a wasting disease or from being stuck inside a dungeon without any light. The child's hair is short, the end curls sticking up almost like a sheep's. The child's lips are full and red, as though he had eaten the poisonous wild berries this land is known for.

Iwaizumi doesn't think he has ever met this child before, because as bad as his memory is, he thinks he'll surely remember someone who looks this striking.

(And almost as a protest against his assessment of himself as someone with poor memory, he's suddenly struck with the recollection of the last time he's ever had to write anything. He's suddenly weighed down by the memory of kneeling in front of the king knighting him, the weight of the ceremonial sword cool and heavy and _welcome_ against his shoulder, just as a small dagger cuts into the tip of his left index finger, just as droplets of blood coat the tip of the quill with the red of his own life. He's suddenly transported back to that very moment when he signs his name to the tablet that's meant for each knight who swears their loyalty to the king, to the slab of stone where he has written the strokes for his name of _Iwaizumi Hajime_ with certainty and fluidity, because he's sure, back then, that he would gladly die while serving the Grand King—)

…

Iwaizumi takes a step back, his stomach coiling and his breath leaving him in a rush.

"…I was," the child admitted without the trace of rebelliousness most kids his age have, "but you found me just fine, didn't you?"

The war is finally over and there's no more evil in this world.

Iwaizumi doesn't have anything else to do, now that Oikawa has been banished from the realm.

That's probably why he only hesitates for a few seconds before he reaches out with the hand that's always only had to hold on to the weight of his sword.

"I'm Iwaizumi. Do you want to come with me?"

••• _end of part 01_ – **sloth**

* ** _sloth_** \- _is the failure to do things that one should do._


	2. 02 - blocking

••• **02**

He doesn't remember his name – his past – his reason for living – his reason for wearing a baggy shirt and dirtied underpants – his reason for being stranded in the middle of a nameless forest – his reason for wanting to pluck off all of the leaves of that particular shrub – his reason for not turning around when someone had obviously appeared right behind him – his reason for turning around when the other addressed him – his reason for regarding the older man's offer coolly – his reason for actually following the other's broad back on his way back to a dingy cottage in the middle of what's more appropriately a ghost town – his _everything_. 

It's not like he's happy or content with not knowing anything important about himself, but it's not like he can actually do anything to rectify the very huge hole in his mind.

The only good thing is that he still remembers that he loves eating milk bread.

He mentions that to Iwa-chan, who only crinkles his nose at him.

He thinks it's because Iwa-chan doesn't even _know_ what a milk bread is, because he doesn't look terribly cultured, nor does he look handy in the kitchen or any housework. Of course, it's probably because of the shortening of the other's name – but that's for the _best._ His memory is already failing him, so he can't afford to waste more of his memory space to remember the other's long name.

'Iwa-chan' suits him just fine.

He follows Iwa-chan back to his stinky cottage, all the while lamenting his state of dress. He looks at Iwa-chan's very plain clothes and huffs, because yeah, the other didn't strike him as someone fashionable enough to own anything exciting. True to his fears, when the other shoves some stale-smelling clothes to his arms, they're just a plain white shirt and some black pants. Even truer to his suspicions, when he tiptoes his way out of the drawn bath (ew, there was mold on the sink) and into sneaking around the other's closet, he only saw a sea of white and black.

"You really don't remember anything?"

"I wouldn't stay here with you if I did, Iwa-chan," he quips, even as he gratefully sips the tea that's placed in front of him.

"Tch, such an ungrateful brat."

He's actually honestly not sure if he would stay with Iwa-chan in this boring house if he remembers something more substantial than milk bread, but he finds that he enjoys seeing the look of irritation on the other's face, so he resolves to be as difficult and nasty as possible. He thinks he's actually a fairly nasty person, but he's somehow alright with that.

"I would be happier if you brought me milk bread, you know."

"I honestly don't give a shit about your milk bread." Iwa-chan frowns at him like he's being a pest, but there's something strange in Iwa-chan's eyes, because it almost looks as though he's rapidly being fond of being annoyed. What a strange guy.

"Aw, you're such a meanie—"

He wants to follow it up with something more scathing, but just as he tries to rack his mind for a good insult, his head suddenly hurts, and instead of cruel comebacks, he instead remembers something else—

(—he's suddenly inside a cramped place that only has cold bricks, like a _dungeon_ , and he's panting, he's flush against the cold brick wall and there's barely any light, but he can see a figure menacingly approaching him, just as he can see a clawed hand moving to grasp him by the shoulders, just as the claws tear the fabric of the cloth he's wearing, just as a harsh voice asks him: " _Where did you hide **the coordinate**? Where's your most important thing?_ ")

"—okay?"

He blinks and the lightless, windowless dungeon is gone and is replaced by the stale-aired cottage. There's no demonic figure in front of him. There's only Iwa-chan, who looks too distressed for someone who's being verbally abused by a bratty stranger.

"…yeah, I'm good."

He makes a show of sipping the remains of the tea and exaggerating a grimace and protesting about its yucky taste, even if tasted fine. Iwa-chan plays along with him and bops him lightly over the head, messing up his already- messy hair even more.

Throughout the weirdly domestic routine, he can't help but think that he's probably been hit over the head by that demonic figure, because he was unable to produce the 'most important thing' they're looking for. He doesn't remember anything vital about himself, but he does think that he's a pretty nasty person over all.

He probably doesn't even have anything that can be remotely considered as his most important thing.

His head throbs painfully as he thinks of that, but he doesn't give it further thought.

••• _end of part 02_ – **blocking**

 * ** _blocking_** – is when the brain tries to retrieve/encode information, but another memory interferes with it


End file.
